Mahogany and Whiskey
by lyn452
Summary: She was everything he hated about the Capitol, but for some reason, he found he couldn't hate her…
1. Chapter 1

**A/N. **So I never saw anything remotely romantic between these two in the books, but for some reason, the chemistry they have in the movie makes me wonder about the possibilities. This starts before the original story and will probably end sometime after it, possibly going a little AU.

I don't own the characters, the story, etc.

**Mahogany and Whiskey **

Effie Trinket saw it as paying her dues. She would serve as the District 12 escort, put up with the drunken fool of a mentor and then sooner or later, be assigned to a better district. She had already worked so hard to get to the position of escort, what was another couple of years of hard work? She would do this for a couple of years until a gamemaker or maybe even President Snow realized that her talents were being wasted on an unworthy district. She would be promoted to another district and some other new escort could take this awful district.

She was hoping for 1 or 2. After all, they almost exclusively produced the winners, who were always attractive and marketable. Not only that, but they always had the best costumes and she had heard stories of past escorts being rewarded with jewels or other special items for their work once the victors gained their prizes.

Not to mention how nice it would be to work with some of those mentors; in fact, District 4 wouldn't be so bad an assignment either – she still blushed when Finnick Odair appeared on screen.

Still, this was an important assignment for her and a huge step in right direction for her career. So she approached it with professionalism. She wore her best outfit for the first day on the job and learned all she could about the mentor she would be working with, Haymitch Abernathy.

First, she watched his victory. Admittedly, it was clever though not a very entertaining strategy. The fact that he won during a Quarter Quell with twice the usual tributes was impressive though.

Then she watched his subsequent public appears and it became clear very soon that he was belligerent drunk who would be difficult to manage. At least he was entertaining now, even if it was for all the wrong reasons.

Still, it made her loath her job even more.

* * *

Haymitch looked for another bottle of vodka before he had to be out on stage for another reaping. He needed more strength just to show up every year for another set of kids to be lined up for the slaughter, and until they made actual liquid strength or courage or whatever you wanted to call it, he would have to settle for booze. Unable to find any vodka, he settled for whiskey.

This year would be a little different. He had received notice that his district had a new escort this year. She had some dumb Capitol name, Yuffie, maybe?

It didn't matter. Really everyone from the Capitol was the same, at least where the face of the games were concerned. They were showmen and women who wanted to put on a good show, never minding the fact that this particular show was in fact the annual slaughter of 23 children. No, for them, it was just a game.

He hated them all.

He heard the tapping at his door, but ignored it in favor of his bottle. The tapping grew more insistent and was soon accompanied by a female voice calling, "Mr. Abernathy?"

Haymitch nearly laughed, nobody had ever called him mister before. She would learn soon.

It wasn't long before his door was opened and he got his first look at District 12's new escort. She looked even more ridiculous than the last one, but as far as he could tell, she actually appeared to be young and attractive underneath it all. She immediately covered her nose and mouth at the smell that he was sure was repugnant. He didn't notice anymore, but he knew that his house was hardly ever cleaned and the few visitors he had always admonished him for the nasty smell.

This Capitol woman didn't say anything about it though, instead she told him, "You are not camera-ready."

He did laugh at that, like he cared how he looked. But she must have because she came over and made him stand up. This time she didn't cover her face from the smell of him. She straightened out his jacket and dusted it off.

Haymitch didn't like the invasion of personal space, so he smiled lewdly and grabbed her. She squeaked, "Yuffie, I think I'm going to like you."

She swatted at his arms. "My name is Effie. Effie Trinket. Let go of me."

He attempted to kiss her, which caused her to scream and smack his face. He let go of her and she ran out of his house as fast as her high heels could take her.

When she was gone, Haymitch smiled. It was always fun to get back at the Capitol, even when it was in very insignificant ways.

* * *

The last District 12 escort had warned Effie about the boorish manners of the district, especially the mentor, but Effie still wasn't prepared for the ogre to have gone as far as he did. What if the awful man groped her during the ceremony? How would she be expected to maintain her composure then?

She took a deep breath. Times like these were sent to try the strong, and she would rise about hers. She would get a better district. The last escort had merely given up, but not Effie Trinket. No, she would whip that vulgar mentor into a somewhat presentable one and perhaps even get a victor. The last was a long shot she knew, but anything was possible with the right attitude.

She straightened out her outfit and her hair before going into the mayor's house, where she would wait until the official ceremony started. Part of her was so nervous no matter how prepared she was. She had practiced her lines over and over last night and had rewatched many of the most recent games in case the chosen tributes had any questions. Granted, they would normally ask their mentor for such advice, but seeing the state he was in, she knew that she may be required to step up and show that she was willing to go the extra mile. This would hopefully be noticed and she would be reassigned from this crappy district in no time.

It wasn't long before her first ceremony began. The annual film played, reminding everyone why the Hunger Games existed and what the rules were. She always loved to watch this snippet of history, but this time all she could see was the empty chair where the District 12 mentor was supposed to be.

For the first time, she thought, 'Where is Haymitch?' It would not be the last time she had the thought.

When she began to speak about the honor of being here and the greatness of the games, her introduction was interrupted by the drunken man stumbling on to the stage. She tried not to let it bother her, refusing to let her big break pass her by, as she was speaking to everyone in Panem. She merely smiled and said, "Ladies first."

It had been a real worry that she would incorrectly pronounce the name on the slip of paper or some other nonsense, ruining her first time announcing the names of the tributes. But it was an easy name and she called it clearly.

The girl who came forward was a young teenager, with limp blonde hair and looked like she hadn't eaten in weeks. The part of her that once betted on games with her sister thought, 'She'll be lucky to get through the first day.'

The boy wasn't much better though he was older and appeared to have some muscles. This year didn't look like it would change the district's luck. She nearly pouted, as that meant there would be no highlight footage played repeatedly with her and her new outfit. But she kept the smile on ending with the usual, "May the odds be ever in your favor."

They certainly weren't in hers.

* * *

Haymitch boarded the train at the last possible moment he could. He hated the train trip more than even watching the games and trying to court sponsors. At least he could usually spend most of the games in the bar with Chaff, as their districts were usually out of the running pretty quickly. After his first look at this year's tributes, he had no reason to believe this year would be any different.

He made his way to the dining car immediately. He ignored the kids at the table and the new escort, making a beeline to the bar. He fixed himself a drink and then plopped down at the free seat at the end of the table. He looked up and saw Effie's pursed lips and glaring eyes.

If he cared what she thought, he may have obeyed her silent command to behave himself.

She tried to start up some small talk with everyone at the table. But the kids were too busy eating more food than Haymitch suspected they had ever seen and he was too busy trying to drink away the pain of dining with two walking corpses.

Eventually, Effie said something that caught Haymitch's attention, "Perhaps you children could tell Haymitch and me about some of your skills. That way he can better train you as soon as you arrive."

She said it with an encouraging smile and Haymitch was flabbergasted by the almost sound advice and strategy this Capitol show pony was offering the tributes. The girl said nothing, but was eating slower now. The boy did answer, "I'm one of the fastest boys in my class. I nearly always win races with the other boys and girls."

Haymitch emptied his glass. "That's a great strategy. Run and hide. Never mind the fact that any of the careers are sure to be far better at running and good trackers besides, assuming the arena has any good hiding places anyway."

This ensured both of the kids would be silent for the rest of the meal, as they both bowed their heads, looking only at their food.

Effie was back to glaring at him. She tried to engage the children again, attempting to go over how they should present themselves on television and trying to schedule a time for coaching both of them for their pre-game interviews. Neither seemed interested. Eventually she gave up, sending them to their rooms with a sigh.

Haymitch smirked, but Effie reeled on him. "You're supposed to be helping them. Their very lives are in your hands and you treat it all as some big joke."

Her words sparked something long buried in him and Haymitch responded without his usual snarking tone, "Unlike you, I never asked for this job." He picked up a bottle of champagne that had been chilling. "Now if you'll excuse me." He bowed, nearly loosing his balance and falling over.

She called out after him, "You could at least pretend to care. It would be helpful if they thought someone was on their side. I am, but I can't be the only one."

That was the moment he realized this escort was different; she was ambitious, dumb and shallow, just like the rest of the Capitol folk, but this one actually seemed to care.

He wondered how long that would last.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N. **I'm rereading the books now, but I don't remember if there was a set timeline for the previous victors and I'm too lazy to really research it, so I might keep it somewhat vague and it may go off canon. Though I imagine Finnick to be in his 20s come the Quarter Quell, and Effie and Haymitch working together for a little less than 10 years when they meet Katniss and Peeta.

I'll also warn you not to get spoiled by quick updates; it's not the usual for me.

* * *

Effie continued to try to coax both of her tributes out of their shells as they traveled to the Capital. She told them all the facts she knew of the lands they passed. She tried to get them excited about the Capital. She talked about the glorious history of the Games and some of the legendary Victors.

Nothing got through to them though.

She knew how important it was in the Games to be likeable and memorable. Right now, no one she knew would support either of these scared little mice. They stood no chance without some assistance in the Games. She had to give them some personality.

The girl flinched every time Effie moved, and she knew if she scared the girl, she'd be lucky not to wet herself when she saw the Career tributes. Part of Effie wanted to abandon the girl completely, but she would not give up so easily. At least the girl took direction.

The boy held a little more promise, but he was so meek and shy that she knew the key would be getting him to come out of his shell. But Haymitch had scared him and he was completely closed off now.

It would all be so much easier if she was getting any help from the Mentor. This was his job, after all. She was in charge of escorting them, making sure they were at the right places at the right times and acting in the proper Capital fashion. It was not her job to help them win the games, minus helping them attract sponsors. She merely wanted to see it happen. It would be a good career move and the Games were always better when an underdog won it.

She knocked on Haymitch's door, secure in the knowledge that he couldn't have made his room as revolting as his house, not in so short of a time. She heard glass being knocked around and Haymitch opened the door a crack, only revealing a squinting eye. "Are we there already?" he asked.

"No." He slammed the door in her face. Effie tittered at his rudeness. She had never experienced such bad manners. She knocked more forcefully on the door this time; some would call it banging.

"What?" He opened the door fully this time, and Effie wished he hadn't because he was wearing unbuttoned pants and nothing else. It was highly inappropriate.

She said as much, "Perhaps we should have this conversation after you have had a chance to properly attire yourself."

"We're both adults, Princess. Let's just talk now." He gave a leer that made her squirm.

Effie suppressed the desire to fight him on that, as she had another, more important battle to pick with him. "We will be in the Capitol soon and I need to be sure I can count on you to be sober and present for our tributes." She nearly said children, but stopped herself since she didn't like the way that sounded.

Haymitch laughed. "Are you kidding me? All those parties, schmoozing at the bars, I'll be drunk before the prep team is finished with them."

"That is unacceptable. I never…"

He interrupted whatever else she was about to say, "Listen, sweetheart, if you're going to be the escort for this district, I suggest you get used to it."

He shut the door in her face again, and Effie could tell by the clanging of bottles he wouldn't be opening it again.

She stormed away, upset with him for making her job far more difficult than it had to be. Who did he think he was? Just the drunken victor of some little outlying district most people forgot about. She snapped at the tributes to make themselves presentable, they would be in the Capitol in a few hours.

* * *

At the party where all of the 'important' people watched the Parade of Tributes, Haymitch went straight to the bar, hoping to be drunk before they brought out the sheep for the slaughter.

His annoying shadow followed him, yapping, "Must you start with that already? You haven't even said hello to anyone yet. We need to begin courting sponsors."

He ordered a drink, instructing the bartender to overfill his glass. "Listen, Yuffie."

"Effie."

"You saw those kids on the train. They are sweet, shy children who will be dead in two weeks and there isn't a damn thing you or I can do about that." The bartender handed him his drink. He raised his glass to the fuming escort. "So enjoy the drinks, have some good food, and forget about them, as they are dead already."

"You're not even going to try?" She grabbed his arm, causing him to spill his drink. He stared at the stain as she continued to talk. "Look at Finnick Odair over there, courting sponsors already. You need to do more, like him."

Haymitch looked up and sure enough the young Victor was surrounded by women, and he seemed to be more encouraging than in previous years. The man from District Four had won three years ago, the youngest winner ever, and the boy grew more handsome (and more legal) with each passing year. If Haymitch actually worried about winning sponsors, the boy would have caused him great trouble since as great of a woman as Mags was, courting Capitol people wasn't really her thing. The boy still looked whole, which was an odd thing for victors.

Haymitch wondered what the kid hid under that bright smile of his.

"If only you were as handsome as him," Effie began fiddling with Haymitch's collar.

"Leave me be, woman." He swatted her away.

She stopped touching him, but smiled at one of the other escorts, and before greeting her, Effie hissed, "Try." Then she was all smiles again, greeting her friend/acquaintance with two air kisses besides the cheeks.

Haymitch took a drink, missing the last escort who had already been broken in, knowing that he'd given up years ago. This new one was like a pair of new shoes, prettier but painful. It didn't matter, she'd wear down eventually, the amount of death always did it, every escort he had dealt with quit, retired or got transferred after a few years. This determination and cheerfulness would be gone eventually.

"Haymitch!" a booming voice called. Haymitch greeted his friend Chaff with a smile and bear hug.

Now the party could really start.

* * *

"Who do you think will win this year, Effie?"

Effie was so excited to be here, in the box suite, watching the parade, mixing with some of the best Panem had to offer, something she had once dreamed of when she watched the Games as a child. She smiled and answered, "I don't know. I have only had the pleasure seeing my dear tributes so far. But they are certainly full of promise. District 12 may have a winner this year." She lied.

No one believed her, but they laughed along politely. Effie didn't even care. She had made it to the big leagues; she was part of the show. She was experiencing a dream come true and nothing would ruin it for her.

The group continued to talk about this year's tributes. No one had really stood out at the reaping this year, though a few of the careers were intimidating.

"It's starting," someone called out. The conversation stopped and everyone looked to the screen and to watch the parade. This year the tributes were being carried out on beds carried by Avoxs. It was quite grand and the announcers commented on how many of the outfits were inspired by the Ancient Roman culture to match their carriages. District One's were especially fetching, as they were gold and the girl tribute had an elaborate braided updo.

Effie was disappointed when her tributes came out. They were dressed in unflattering coal miner outfits and looked scared and out of place. The announcers barely commented on them. No one would remember them. She attempted to look around to see if Haymitch was talking to sponsors like he was supposed to be doing, but she couldn't find him.

She watched President Snow's speech, clapping at the end like everyone else, and then going back to talking and champagne. They talked about the tributes and the parade, but eventually moved on to the latest fashions and gossip.

One of the women she was talking to suddenly turned very quiet and her face held a look of disbelief. She pointed, "Effie, isn't that your mentor?"

Effie turned, and then the color completely drained from her face. Oh no. What on earth was he doing?

* * *

Unable and unwilling to take the time to find a bathroom, Haymitch had pried open the balcony doors. Then he went to the edge, balancing on the bars that prevented anyone from falling off.

"What are you up to?" Chaff asked with a laugh.

Haymitch grinned, "I need to make room." He unzipped his fly and peed off the balcony, uncaring as to what or who may be below. Chaff began belly laughing behind him, the deep sound encouraging Haymitch.

Then a high screech interrupted him, "What do you think you are doing?"

He nearly lost his balance, which would have made a heck of a mess, but luckily his reflexes were still quick, and so disaster was averted. He looked to his left and after a moment of focusing, he saw his escort, whose face was as red as her wig. She was tapping a high heeled shoe against the marble of the balcony and he laughed at the sight of her angry.

He could hear Chaff laughing in the background even harder now. He imagined it was quite the sight to see the small, ridiculously dressed woman trying to get him under control. Better people had tried and they had all failed miserably. "Go away and leave me to piss in peace," he told her.

"You are embarrassing me," she hissed, stepping as close as she dared to avoid the splash zone. "Don't you realize that your actions reflect badly on all of us? You're here to represent your district, and you're doing nothing but shaming them right now."

"Oh." He shook out the last few drops. "Here I thought by being a victor, I had already brought honor and glory to my district." He smiled at her. "Now why don't you be a pet and fetch me another drink?"

"Fine." She turned on her heel, heading to the bar.

That surprised him. He assumed she would lecture him about proper etiquette or some such nonsense. Sure enough she returned with a full glass of a clear fluid. He smiled and reached for the glass.

She didn't give it to him though; instead she kicked his shin with all of her strength, which was more than Haymitch would have guessed. Chaff was laughing again, and he was the only one who noticed this interaction since they had moved to a secluded corner.

Haymitch grabbed his leg, cursing. "Are trying to cripple me?"

She thrust the glass in his face. "Here is some water. If you aren't going to do anything productive for our tributes, I suggest you drink this glass of water and go to bed."

He tried to straighten up but it only half-worked. "Listen, sweetheart, I do not take orders from you."

She forced the water into his hands. "You will or I swear I will schedule every meeting as early as possible from now on and you'll have to deal with your hangover."

She walked away as he cursed pointy shoes and drank some of the water. Chaff, merely giggling now, commented, "Quite the little firecracker you have there."

"You're not supposed to take her side." Haymitch finished the water. "Now let's move this party to the bar down the street." Haymitch limped to the door.

* * *

Effie was a woman who lived her life on a certain schedule. She got up at the same time every day. She would go through the same motions of showering, applying her makeup and dressing, and then eating breakfast. Today was no different. She painted on her face and a smile then went to fetch her tributes. She knocked on Haymitch's door as well, but wasn't surprised by the lack of response.

She smiled at the tributes and tried to explain about the food and where it was from or how it was made, but they both ignored her, preferring to stuff their faces instead. "Slow down or you'll get sick. Mind your manners, you two."

Effie wondered where Haymitch was and after looking at the hall where he should be emerging for the 100th time, she decided to knock on his door again. Just as she got up to do so, she heard a knock at the door. She smiled at the children who jumped at the noise to reassure them. 'They acted like scared rabbits,' she thought cynically. They wouldn't make it.

She wouldn't allow such morbid thoughts. They had a chance, all of them did. She opened the door to two peacemakers, and between they carried a familiar face.

"Haymitch!"

She pointed to the couch as they dragged him inside. She scolded him immediately, trying to keep her voice down so the tributes wouldn't hear. "You're supposed to be setting an example. They should be participating in a grand tradition, following in legendary footsteps, not getting scared by some drunk."

Haymitch apparently wasn't passed out because he laughed at her words. "Oh, Princess, you know nothing."

Effie thanked the peacekeepers and escorted them out. She clapped her hands and sent the children off to training. She knew that their mentor should escort them, but also knew that Haymitch was in no condition to do so. When they were alone, she glared at him. "I'll fetch you some coffee."

He accepted it, but as soon as her back was turned, he preceded to 'Irish' it up a little with what was left in his flask.

Effie continued to talk, "You're supposed to be mentoring these kids and helping them to compete and earn honor."

Haymitch snorted at her and finished with his drink, laid back down and closed his eyes, ignoring the rest of Effie's speech.

* * *

Haymitch didn't wake up until dinnertime. Even then it was only because Effie poked his shoulder rapidly and repeated his name in that high-pitched accent of hers. He stumbled over to the table, causing the kids to jump at the bang on the table. He went straight for the wine, hoping to starve off the massive hangover he could feel at behind his temples.

Effie led the conversation mostly, while Haymitch, laid his head in his hands willing his body to return to that pleasant buzzed state. He didn't hear the question the first time, but after a few repeats it got through.

"Do you have any tips for us?" the boy asked.

"Stay alive." He finished his drink, so he got up to fetch another, switching to whiskey. "I have plenty of tips. What are you looking for?"

"What's the worst thing that could happen to us in there?" the girl asked. It was the first time she had spoken up since the train.

Haymitch watched the amber liquid in the bottle twirl. "That you'll die a slow, painful death and no one will even care."

The children accepted his words with sullen silence, but it enraged Effie. She marched over and hissed at him, "I don't understand how you can be so angry all the time. We are involved in the most exciting event of the entire year, and you don't seem to care at all."

"Well," his voice went up an octave, "I will be sure to practice my curtsy for the Capitol folks." He lifted the bottle, knowing he would drink it all tonight anyway.

"In a glass, in a glass, do not drink straight from the bottle." Effie nagged.

He laughed at her, but obliged, pouring his booze into a crystal glass. It always seemed a waste of time to him, just meant it would need to be cleaned now, but he really could do without her squawking.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N. **Found out in rereading the books that Finnick won the 65th games, so that would make these the 68. Had to change my plans a little, but it's all good.

* * *

They watched rankings together. Effie got more and more excited with every score. She was finally a part of the excitement, she was rooting for her tributes naturally, but the girl from District One was very pretty and the boys from District Three and Four both got 11 rankings.

She had enjoyed watching the Hunger Games with her family as a child and she looked around at her new family. Both of the designers were ancient but still attempted to look young, she kept thinking they were retired (or dead). She realized that District 12 wasn't just for the new people, but also those on their way out.

The tributes seemed anxious, almost like they didn't want to be here. Effie didn't understand them at all. They should feel honored to compete; instead they did nothing but flinch and gorge themselves. It was frustrating to her.

Haymitch, for once, seemed sober, watching the program with an attentiveness she wasn't used to from him. When the District Three boy's score was announced, he grumbled, "Got a smart one this year."

When they got to District 12, the girl had gotten a three and the boy a four. They were dismal scores, but Effie plastered a smile on her face, "Well, the scores aren't that important anyway. Often times the higher scores die quickly."

The tributes said nothing, but shifted at Effie's words. Haymitch actually agreed with her, "She's right. High scores are targeted, low scores get ignored." He knew that meant there was no chance of sponsors as well, but he kept that to himself.

Encouraged, Effie decided to take advantage of Haymitch's soberness, and asked him to advise the tributes. The designers left, no longer interested in the conversation, but Effie was nearly bouncing in excitement. She felt this is the way it was always supposed to be, the Mentor offering life-saving advice to the young tributes.

Haymitch opened a bottle and said, "All right. You'll want to find water first, shelter second and food third. Avoid the careers, you're not going to beat them, and you're better off not trying. Don't bother with the Cornucopia either; it only benefits the ones who can hold it. Don't make any fires, the careers are taught to seek them out, so it's a good way to get killed."

The tributes listened to every word as though their lives depended on them, nodding along. Effie knew that his advice very well could be good, but it wasn't like she would have thought. She said, "Honestly, Haymitch, your advice is all about how to avoid the careers. They are not the enemy."

He looked to the tributes. "If you're from 12, they are."

"What about alliances?" the boy asked.

"Alliances can be tricky since they have to break up eventually. Possibly with a literal knife in the back."

"So you recommend against them?" the girl asked.

"I wouldn't say either way. It's nice to have a friend in there." It's just hard when you lose them. He didn't say it out loud but doubled his drinking, trying to get the image of Maysilee Donner from his mind.

Effie picked up on the fact that Haymitch was no longer going to be useful, so she guided the tributes to bed, so that they would be well-rested for another big, big, big day.

* * *

Haymitch was anxious to get down to the bar and see Chaff, but Effie insisted that they watch the Games together, so he was stuck in the penthouse with her and the designers. The designers were clearly sleeping, but Effie didn't seem to notice, she just arranged the platters again. Haymitch didn't touch any of the food, sticking to the drinks. He sat in a chair, draping himself over it in the most undignified way possible. He did it mostly to get a scowl from the Escort, and he wasn't disappointed.

Part of him wondered just what she would do if he just left, but he didn't seriously consider leaving. He figured it was harmless enough to wait around here for a while anyway. Most tributes from his district didn't make it past the first few hours of the Game. He saw little reason it would be different this year.

Effie smiled when the pre-show started. "It's this exciting? It's so much better when you're actually involved with them, isn't it?"

"Oh yes," Haymitch took a drink. "It's even better when you're actually in the games and you get to feel the knives cutting you, such a realistic experience."

Effie ducked her head, silenced.

Haymitch figured it served her right. How dare she say such things? He had little to no tolerance for Capitol nonsense and that's all this girl seemed to know.

She didn't speak again until the games actually started, squeaking when she saw the arena. "Oh it's so pretty."

Haymitch studied the arena as well, he knew from experience that pretty usually meant deadly. The arena this year reminded him of his own arena, with a mountain in the background and in field surrounded by trees. He got up; he would need more liquor to get through this.

The countdown sounded in the background, and he closed his eyes for a moment, hearing the gong and being transported back to the time when he ran off the platform.

It was Effie that broke him out of it. "I thought you told them to avoid the Cornucopia."

He turned back to watch the screen again. "I did."

It appeared that the girl had ignored his advice. "So why is she running toward it?"

"She panicked because she's a little girl who's scared to die." Haymitch remembered how tempting it is. First, you're dizzy and overwhelmed by the environment around you. But then you see it. All you could need, lying before you. There's a long countdown and you're just staring at it, thinking about how you could use this or that. "The gamemakers know how tempting it is for them, that's why it's in almost every one." He added more ice to his drink before sitting again.

The girl is killed. Effie shrieked, waking the designers for a moment. They looked around, as if forgetting where they were, but went back to sleep almost immediately.

"That's one down." He mock toasted to dead tribute.

"Oh." Effie looked downcast for a moment, but brightened quickly. "Well, the boy did run pretty fast. Did you see that? Maybe he will make it."

Haymitch said nothing, just drank. How in the hell could she be so positive?

* * *

It was day two of the Games, and the boy for District 12 was still alive, but both tributes from 11 were dead. Haymitch had snuck out of the penthouse, avoiding Effie, to share a drink with Chaff to toast the dearly departed. As always, one drink had turned into ten, and now he wouldn't be able to return if he wanted to. "She's driving me nuts, man. This new escort, always trying to see the positive, never giving in to the inevitable, insisting we spend time together. None of the others were like this."

"You poor man." Chaff said in his booming voice, taking a drink. "At least she's pretty, much better than the old bat you had before. Nice tight ass in a nice tight skirt, I'm not sure why you're complaining."

Haymitch said nothing to that. He'd noticed that Effie was not unattractive, and it would be ridiculous to argue otherwise. He mumbled, "I just wish she'd leave me alone."

As if the wish had been overheard, Effie came storming into the bar at that moment. "There you are, Haymitch. Shouldn't you be in the sponsors' room? If you haven't noticed, our boy is having some trouble finding water."

"Well, I've had no trouble finding the whiskey."

She ran over to him or as close to running as one could get in such high heels. "I found a sponsor for him, but I need you to close the deal." She began to tug on his arm, trying to drag him up.

"You actually found a sponsor for him?" Haymitch couldn't believe it. It had been years since anyone had even shown interest in sponsoring someone from 12. He wondered what she did to change that tide.

Now that he was up and she was standing close enough to him, Effie could smell the alcohol. "Oh, you smell terrible. Stay here and I'll go get something." She scampered away.

Haymitch turned to Chaff, "See. She's very annoying."

Chaff shrugged. "I watched her running away in those heels, and I still think you're overreacting."

The bartender brought over some coffee for Haymitch. He barely took a sip, when Effie was back with a bottle of cologne. She began spraying around his face, Haymitch cried out, "Stop that. You're getting it in my mouth."

She sniffed around him. "It's a little better." She shoved some mints into his mouth and then dragged him away, and he finished the coffee as quickly as he could, placing the cup on the bar on his way out.

Alone in the elevator making their way up to the sponsors' room, Effie gave her last instructions, "You will go try, Haymitch." She said firmly. "You will try to save that boy's life."

Haymitch, sobered up a little now, realized that she was right. He pushed out the memories from his early years as a mentor when he had really tried, before it grew to be too much and all the time alone in the Victor's Village caught up with him, making him realize just how alone he was.

How alone he would always be.

But he would try for now and then try not to mind when he inevitably failed.

* * *

The sponsor she had lined up turned out to be an older man. Before coming up here, Haymitch had assumed Effie had somehow used her looks and a possible promise of sleeping together to get someone to talk to her.

Within a few minutes though, Haymitch realized this man's interest wasn't in Effie. He continuously talked about the Seam boy's pretty eyes. Haymitch struggled not to throw up on this man's pretty suit and part of him would have done it gladly.

But he didn't want to deal with the fallout from Effie.

Finally the older man said, "Send the boy some bread."

"Actually, I get to decide what he needs." Haymitch reminded him.

With a firmer tone, the man repeated, "Send the boy some bread."

Haymitch understood the man's attentions all too well. He also knew that if the boy somehow made it through what the Capitol would do.

This was why he hated courting sponsors; they reminded him that there were worse things than a career's spear through the chest.

Back in the penthouse, Effie was happy to see the bread, as was the boy, and nearly hugged Haymitch until the look he gave her stopped her cold.

* * *

The avalanche was what ultimately killed their last tribute. The boy had been trapped under some rocks. As he was still alive, Effie tugged on Haymitch's sleeve. "Do you think that the sponsor would send him something? Could he still live?"

Haymitch thought that the man might, but refused to indebt the boy like that, so he answered, "No. There's nothing we can do."

Effie looked very distressed by this news and watched until a few hours after, the cannon sounded, as the boy's heart beat had stopped.

Haymitch barely reacted, but Effie let out a gasp. It didn't take long for her to recover though, "We'll just have to try harder next year."

"That'll work," Haymitch grumbled under his breath.

Effie ignored him, "Well, I'll call the family." She got up, but Haymitch stopped her.

"They won't have a phone."

"Oh. Well, I guess we'll do it in person then when we deliver the coffins."

"What are you talking about? There is no we. You don't say anything to the families because there is nothing to say."

"Don't be silly. We'll let them know they died honorably in the Games and…"

"They won't care. They won't want to hear it. You won't be comforting them. They won't love you for it. They'll hate you, you stupid Capitol bitch."

She yelled now, "It's my job. I have to say something."

"It's not your job, Effie. None of the other escorts ever came back with the coffins. It won't matter anyway."

Effie recognized that Haymitch had gotten her name right, but she ignored that, simply saying, "It matters to me."

Haymitch said nothing. He knew she wouldn't be welcome, but he found himself admiring her for making the effort. No one else did, not even him.

* * *

As predicted, both of the families reacted badly to Effie's words. One slammed the door shut in her face and the other spat at her feet before slamming the door shut.

Effie wasn't one to be put out though, and she acted as if it had all gone very well. Haymitch had refused to go with her to deliver the coffins, but did see her off at the station.

She was smiling again, "At least we'll go to the Victor's Ball."

"What?"

"At the President's house. All the past victors are invited; I figured I could be your date. Besides it's a great opportunity to court more sponsors for next year and thank our previous one."

Haymitch would say nothing to that man though he might throw up on him if he saw him again. He knew what reaction that would bring so he talked about Effie's previous comment instead. "That's awfully presumptuous of you."

"Did you have plans to invite someone else?" She actually seemed surprised and maybe a little hurt.

Actually he never went; the entire event pissed him off. "I'm not going."

"You have to." She looked at him. "Of course we'll need to go shopping first."

Who was this woman? "What?"

She noticed his sour look, so she explained, "We should coordinate; present a united front, being from the same district. I was thinking we could both dress in black, being from the coal district and all. I've already ordered my hair."

"You aren't from District 12. I will not be going shopping with you or to the Victor's ball."

She ignored him, pressing something into his hand. "I already got you special permission to come a day early to the Capitol so we could pick out your clothes." She looked at his current outfit again. "We'll also pick up something for you to wear for next year's games."

Haymitch clenched the ticket, seriously who was this woman? "I'm not going. Effie, are you listening to me? I will not be going shopping or to the ball."

She patted his checks as though he were a child. "I'll see you in a few months, Haymitch."

She went to board the train and he called out after her. "No you will not. We will see each other at the next reaping and no sooner."

A few months later, Haymitch found himself in the Capitol, shopping.


	4. Chapter 4

Nothing had gone how Effie had planned, which was why she was so determined to drag Haymitch to this ball. It was the biggest event of the social season, and she would be there. She wanted to get something out of all of this…misery.

She called into the dressing room, "Haymitch, are you finished yet?"

He swore and there was a bang in the dressing room. Effie rushed over though witnesses might claim it was more of a scuttle since her heels didn't allow much more. She cried out, "Are you okay, Haymitch?"

He peaked out from behind the curtain, "Please tell me you don't have more clothes."

Effie nodded, holding out her selections. Haymitch drew out a pair of maroon skinny pants. "I'm not wearing these."

Effie stomped her foot in frustration, he had been doing this all afternoon, rejecting any clothing item that was even the slightest bit interesting. "Can't you wear something even a little bit fashionable?"

"We've been over this. I like simple and boring."

Effie remembered how much his previous clothes stunk of booze and filth and thought to herself, 'I'd settle for clean.' It was too rude to say out loud so she said, "Well, come out. Let me get a look at you."

Several dirty comments jumped to Haymitch's tongue, but he couldn't the pick the best in a timely manner so he went back behind the curtain to finish buttoning his shirt. Looking at himself in the mirror, he had to admit that Effie actually did do a good job, at least after he'd rejected her outrageous choices. He stepped out.

Effie smiled at the sight of him. While still an unkempt drunk, he looked presentable when properly dressed. She tugged a bit on his waistcoat and shifted his coat a little. He squirmed under her touch.

That was the moment the saleslady came by. "How are we doing over here?"

"Very well," Effie smiled back.

"Doesn't your husband look dashing in that suit?"

"Husband?" Haymitch repeated. "There isn't enough booze in the world for that." The embarrassed saleslady apologized, but Effie reassured her with a laugh after she recovered from the horror of such a prospect as being married to Haymitch.

Effie turned back to Haymitch's image in the mirror. "We'll take the suit and that pile of clothes over there." She pointed to the clothes Haymitch had deemed not half bad. She thought of what he'd been wearing when he'd stepped on the train when she picked him earlier and added, "He'll wear this out."

The saleslady noticed how big the pile was and became very happy to oblige, grabbing as many of the clothes she could carry to the register. She would need to make two trips. Haymitch had brightened at Effie's instructions. "We're done shopping?"

"Yes," Effie confirmed. She looked at her watch. "If we don't leave now we'll be late for our spa appointment."

"What?" Haymitch growled.

"Well, you could use a facial, some grooming and definitely a haircut and I've had such a stressful day."

"Hell no, Effie." The saleslady grabbed the rest of the clothes behind him, running quickly, terrified the fight would affect her commission. "I'm not going to a spa. I'm going to my hotel bar and I'm getting drunk."

Effie frowned, "That was not what I planned, Haymitch."

Before she could continue, the saleslady interrupted to get the sales tags from Haymitch's suit. He handed them over, and then he saw the prices. He said in a quiet, deadly voice, "Did you know that this shirt could feed an entire family in the Seam for a year?"

It was a voice that made Effie wish he was still yelling profanities. She ignored it, like she did with most unpleasant things. "What does the cost matter? You're a Victor after all."

She smiled. He said nothing, walking out on her. Effie fetched Haymitch's wallet from the soiled pants he'd came with and apologized for her companion's behavior to the saleslady. "He is quite rude," the saleslady agreed.

"Oh, but he's also a Victor." The saleslady didn't look like she believed Effie. So Effie tried to remind her, "He won the Quarter Quell. He's from District 12?" Nothing registered, so Effie mentioned an event from the tapes of previous Reapings she'd studied in preparation for her assignment to 12, one she had attempted to block out. "He was the Victor who got in the fight with the Escort a couple of years ago during the Reaping."

A spark of recognition passed on the other woman's face. "Oh yes, we all laughed so hard when he burped…"

She continued to talk about that Game and what her and her friends were doing, but Effie just remembered that Reaping. The woman who had acted as Escort before Effie had clearly been scolding Haymitch about bringing a bottle of alcohol on stage. At one point he yelled back, "Or what? What are you and your precious Capitol going to do to me? You've already made an example of me. So sit down, shut up and let me drink myself to death in peace." He then let out a massive burp.

The ruffled Escort had sat down after that and the footage had cut away at that point, but Effie had always wondered what Haymitch meant when he said he'd been made an example of. He, a bitter, dirty drunk, was certainly a poor example of anything in her opinion.

The saleslady interrupted Effie's thoughts, asking her for her card. Effie handed over what Haymitch had in his wallet. When the transaction was completed, Effie gathered up all the bags and left the store with smiles and thank yous.

It still gnawed at her though. What had Haymitch meant?

* * *

Haymitch was alone at the bar. It wasn't that surprising, as it was too early in the afternoon for a causal or social drinker. The heavy drinkers in the Capitol probably had their own bars that weren't in hotels. The lack of company suited Haymitch just fine though. He knew this was the hotel where most of the Victors stayed at when they had to come to the Capitol, and wondered who would all appear tomorrow night. He was hoping for Chaff, but wasn't sure if he would be there. The man liked a good party, but he also liked his alone time.

He pulled out of his thoughts when he heard the sound of heels coming toward him. He knew it could only be Effie. He turned to face her. She looked less pissed than he thought she was going to be. "What are you doing here?"

"I had your bags dropped off." She glared at the glass in his hand. "I also thought you would need this." She slapped his wallet down on the bar. "I didn't think you would be able to get a drink without it."

He shrugged. "They just put it on the room bill."

She seemed uncomfortable, not wanting to leave, but not wanting to stay. Haymitch pulled out the stool next to him and she took it.

After a while, she asked, "Do you remember the Reaping about two years ago when you told off your former escort?"

He sucked in some air after finishing his drink. "Yeah. What about it?"

Effie fiddled with the napkin in front of her, folding and unfolding it. "What did you mean by they made an example of you?"

Whatever he had been expecting that had not been it. Her words affected him like a freight training hitting him at full speed. When he regained his balance, he called over the bartender. "You should have a drink, Effie."

Effie huffed, "I don't want a drink. We're supposed to be at the spa right now, you know."

Haymitch ordered them both a scotch on the rocks. "I was never going to the spa. You had to know that." She looked so put out that Haymitch threw her a bone, "Look, I went shopping with you. I tried on clothes for you. I'm here. It's better than anyone else would have been able to do, Effie."

Their drinks arrived. Haymitch had figured that Effie was a fruity drink kind of girl who would refuse the scotch, conveniently leaving him a second one. But she surprised him, taking a long drink of it. "You never answered my question."

He took his own drink. "I'll need at least a bottle in me before I can do that conversation. So sit and drink with me."

She did.

He nodded at her drink. "Never pegged you for a scotch drinker."

Effie was rolling the dark liquid in her glass, watching the ice shift. "My father drank scotch. He used to give me sips of it when I was a little girl." She took another long drink.

They fell back into a silence. It was a strange experience for both of them, they had gotten used to bickering and words always came easily to them when they argued. The silence continued until they refilled their drinks. Haymitch silently asked if she wanted another and she slid her glass to him nodding.

Effie broke it, "Is this your first time in the Capitol? I mean besides the Games obviously." She didn't wait for him to answer. "I could have given you a tour, I guess. There's this delightful little shop that sells…"

And off she went. Haymitch tuned her out, focusing on his drinking instead. He had finished a bottle when she said something that broke through and he interrupted her, "Do you even listen to your own prattling?"

She blinked, unsure of what he meant, "What do you mean? I certainly never…"

Before she could take off again, Haymitch said, "Shut up, Effie."

"Why do you say that? To me? To the woman who came before me?"

So she was back on this. "Why do you care?"

"How can you not? You're part of the most wondrous event…"

"I'm going to stop you right there. There's nothing wonderful about children in an all-out death match."

Effie bit her tongue for a while, but after a few more drinks she couldn't help herself, "My father loved the games you know. We always used to watch them as a family. He used to work so much that I hardly ever got to see him, except when the Games came around and President Snow didn't need him."

That did interest Haymitch. Effie's father worked for Snow? "What does your father do for Snow?"

"Oh," Effie looked flustered, like she hadn't meant to say that out loud, "My father died a few years ago, but he used to be in charge of District Relations."

This was all very interesting to Haymitch. "Really? And how did he die?"

Effie's eyes took a sad turn, "There was a train accident." Haymitch wondered if it had been an accident, being close to Snow and the districts sounded like a job with a low life expectancy to him. Effie snapped out of her sad state quickly though, "What about your parents, Haymitch?"

He sighed, bored again, "What about them?"

"What did they do?" She knew from her research that they had both passed away when he was younger.

"Dad died in a mining accident." He took a drink. He wouldn't talk about his mother, not with this woman.

"And your mother?" She pressed.

"None of your damn business, Effie." He shook his head at her inability to pick up on his moods. "Why are you here, Effie? We're not friends, and we never will be. Just leave me the hell alone."

Haymitch then learned something about Effie that he really should have guessed earlier. She was an emotional drunk. She burst into tears at his words, throwing her head and arms on the bar. Unsure of what to do, Haymitch stood behind her and awkwardly patted her back.

Suddenly she popped her head up, "Do you hate me?"

He looked down at her; the crying had made her face a mess. He knew what she needed to hear and obliged, "No, I don't hate you."

She smiled and brought him in closer to her, hugging him and laying her head against his shoulder, comforted by his cool lie.

What confused Haymitch was that didn't feel like a lie.

* * *

Effie did not want to see Haymitch. She had too many drinks the night before and he had put her in a cab to send her home. It had been embarrassing and unprofessional. She wanted to crawl up into a ball and stay that way forever, but she knew that wouldn't be possible. She refused to miss this chance to go to the Victor's Ball and to do that she needed Haymitch.

So she put on her new dress and fixed her makeup and hair. She showed up at Haymitch's hotel a half an hour early, knowing she'd need at least that amount of time to make sure he was awake and dressed.

She knocked and after he didn't answer, she opened the unlocked door. She didn't find him anywhere in the room. She wondered where he could be.

Effie wandered the halls, roaming the building, looking for Haymitch. She went to the bar first, figuring that that was her best bet for finding him. She wasn't disappointed. He was nursing some white liquor. From a distance, he looked good enough, almost handsome. She hoped he hadn't already reacquired his usual smell.

He must have heard her approach because before she could say something he mumbled, "What do you want, Effie?"

"I want to go to the Victor's Ball. I'm shocked you aren't drunk yet and you're ready to go."

"You're early." He turned to face her. "I'm shocked you're ready to go considering the state you were in last night." Effie blushed. Haymitch laughed, "Don't look so embarrassed. It's nice to know you're human." He gestured to the stool next to him. "Have a drink and keep my company."

The memory of the previous night still stung, so Effie refused, "There will be plenty of that at the Ball."

Haymitch grinned as he slammed down the rest of his drink. "You finally understand how to motivate me."

* * *

Ten minutes and Haymitch already wanted to leave. He'd found the bar within seconds and was already on drink number three. He didn't want to remember this night.

Haymitch was glad it took time to get completely drunk when he spotted a familiar face. "Mags," he smiled as the old woman made her way to him.

Haymitch always smiled when he saw Mags. The old woman had always held a special place in Haymitch's heart. The District 12 Victor had died a couple years prior to the second Quarter Quell, and Mags had volunteered to mentor the 12 tributes until a replacement came along since there were three other victors from District Four at the time.

Officially, the Victor had died in his sleep; unofficially, he'd hung himself, unable to cope with nearly thirty years of dead children. In a way, he had been able to mentor Haymitch in that way, it's just Haymitch chose to drink himself to death rather than taking a more direct route.

"What are you doing here, Haymitch? You never come to these things." Mags asked in her thick accent.

"New escort. She's annoying and I hope this will get her off my back for next year."

"Or it will just set a precedent and now you'll be here every year."

"Not happening. She'll learn, Mags."

"Seems to me that you're the one who's learning."

Haymitch went quiet, but Mags continued, "This is escort number six for you?"

"Seven, actually. They never want to stick around long."

"Can't imagine why not. You're such a bundle of joy." She gave him a toothless grin and for the first time in a long time, Haymitch felt his heart warm. Mags was a hell of a woman.

That was the moment Finnick came over. He stole the drink from Haymitch and downed it in one gulp. If it wasn't for the hug Mags immediately gave him, Haymitch would have punched the pretty boy for that. Mags whispered something in Finnick's ear. Finnick smiled sheepishly, and then with a wave of his hand got an Avox to bring Haymitch a new one. "Sorry about that."

Haymitch looked at the new drink in his hand as though it appeared by magic, "That's handy."

"Being ridiculously handsome has its advantages." Haymitch's desire to punch the kid had returned. A Capitol woman interrupted them. Finnick grumbled, "And its disadvantages."

"There you are, Finnick." She waved a finger at him the way one would do to a child. "If I didn't know better I would have said you ran off on me."

Finnick was grinning again. "I wouldn't dream of it. Shall we?" He began to escort her to the dance floor before leaning over to Mags, "We're going home tomorrow, right?"

Mags nodded. Finnick looked relieved, but his smile had slipped back into place almost too easily.

Haymitch had to ask. "Is he really the womanizer they say he is?"

"No, not by nature, but then most of us aren't killers by nature either."

"Or the Games just bring it out. None of us are winners by accident. Luck maybe, but not accident."

Haymitch took a deep drink. Mags was looking at Finnick, "He won at such a young age. He's barely even legal. I worry about him."

Haymitch watched the laughing and dancing young man. "I think he'll be fine."

"The Capitol has almost no leverage on him right now. I mean, the boy loves me like a mother, but he has no real family, doesn't have a girl back home."

Haymitch's jaw clenched, remembering his own girl back home. "Surprising."

Mags' eyes held more sadness than her tone alone could convey, "I almost hope he never does find one. It may be better for him."

Haymitch had no argument to that.

* * *

Effie was having the time of her life. All of the best food, so many important people, and the list went on. It was in this giddy state she found Haymitch, taking a break from dancing. "Haymitch," she called out.

He seemed inclined to ignore her, but she was in no mood to be ignored and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He didn't smell too bad in his new clothes.

Haymitch jumped from her as though her touch had burned him.

Effie didn't seem to notice. "Isn't this just the most magical evening?"

"Oh yes," Haymitch's words dripped with sarcasm as he ordered another drink.

Again, Effie didn't pick up on his mood. She took his drink from him, setting on the bar. "Dance with me."

"No," Haymitch growled, reaching for his drink.

Effie kept it out of his grasp. "No. You drink too much anyway."

"Effie," Haymitch growled again.

Effie giggled, still playing keep away. But then Haymitch grabbed her wrist, tightly and violently.

"Effie, I am here. I am wearing your ridiculous clothes. But you will not interrupt my drinking. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Her eyes filled with tears. "You're hurting me."

"Effie, tell me you understand."

The grip on her wrist tightened and she nodded. He let go, glared at something over her shoulder and left.

She looked at where he'd been glaring and only saw the empty balacony where President Snow had given his address moments before. She wondered what had put the Victor in such a sour mood so quickly.

* * *

Haymitch was officially drunk. He'd been keeping it together, somewhat, until Snow made his entrance with the new Victor, who was nearly shaking.

And to think, this year's Victor was a career, but then even though career districts got some privileges they were still just districts. Haymitch finished another drink.

A man approached him. He smiled and introduced himself. "Plutarch Heavensbee. You're Haymitch Abernathy, right?"

Haymitch greeted him back with a belch. "Yep." He staggered back to the bar. The Capitol man followed him.

"I remember your games. Using the force field as a weapon, very clever." This Plutarch was still grinning.

The last thing Haymitch wanted to deal with was a fan. Besides, he still wasn't sure his cleverness had been worth it. He attempted to ignore the man, and the memories he was stirring up, as he ordered a new drink.

The man didn't get the hint, leaning on the bar next to him. "I also remember when they did the family interviews. You had a mother and brother, right?"

Haymitch suppressed the violent urge that flared up at this Capitol man mentioning his family. "What do you want?" He finally faced the other man.

Plutarch held up his hands. "Just to talk."

"So, talk." Haymitch turned back to the bar.

Plutarch lowered his voice. "Not here." He hands Haymitch a card. "Let me know when you're available."

"I'm a very busy man, not sure if I'll be able to fit you in between my heavy drinking schedule."

"You may want to make the time," Plutarch was back to smiling, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Abernathy." With that, he left him alone, finally.

Since when did people decide to start using his formal name? Haymitch didn't like it. Part of him wanted to throw away the card on principle, but he figured what the hell, maybe he could get drunk one night and finally have someone to prank call. His drink was ready and he was back to drinking again.

He should find out what Effie's number was too.


	5. Chapter 5

The boxes arrived a week before the Reaping for the 69th Hunger Games. The knocks and moving them in hadn't woken Haymitch from his drunken sleep, so they were a surprise when he did wake up. He guessed he should open them and see what the woman had picked, but really had no desire to expel that much energy. He noticed an envelope attached to one of the boxes and grabbed it on his way to the kitchen for a new bottle to battle his current hangover.

He opened a new bottle and had downed half of it before looking at the letter again. It was fancy handwriting in what looked like gold ink. The casual excess disgusted Haymitch enough that he didn't open it until he'd finished his bottle.

He read:

"Haymitch –

It was a pleasure working with you last year." A bold-faced lie, Haymitch knew. "This year I have some ideas on how we can really pop. Maybe gain a few more sponsors for the tributes?" Haymitch was already feeling exhausted by this woman and the Reaping wasn't even here yet.

The letter continued: "I picked out several outfits for you. I know your rules, but there were so many new men's fashions this season that I couldn't resist…"

Haymitch read no more running over to the boxes and ripping the first one open. He picked up the first outfit.

Dear God, what had Effie done?

* * *

Effie exited the train for her second Hunger Games. She was more prepared this time, but the looks of hatred and the poverty were easy to forget after living in the Capitol for a year. She was in her best blue suit with a matching a wig and she really hoped that Haymitch read her note and would be wearing the matching outfit she had got him. It would make them look better on television and perhaps attract the eye of a sponsor. After all, who knew what the kids would be like?

Tributes. Who knew what the tributes would be like.

Her heels kicked up dirt behind her as she made her way to the Victors' Village. She would be taking no chances with Haymitch this year. She would make sure he was wearing the outfit she had gotten him and be ready to go when they went on air in an hour or so. When she saw his home, it always made her sad to see how alone he lived. She pushed the thought aside and went to knock on his door.

She knocked repeatedly. Eventually she gave up and ignoring all the lessons of rudeness her mother had given her, she entered Haymitch's house uninvited. The stench was as bad as ever and she quickly brought a gloved hand to cover her nostrils. She called out, "Haymitch? Haymtich, are you decent? Are you ready?"

She carefully avoided the destroyed boxes in the doorway and made her way through the many empty bottles littering the floor. When she had searched all of the rooms downstairs, she made her way upstairs.

She found him in his room, passed out, and much to her embarrassment, naked. She looked away as soon as she saw it, her prudishness winning out first. She knew she would have to wake him up and get him dressed, but she really didn't have a lot of experience with naked men.

That wasn't to say she didn't have an active social life in the Capitol, but men never stayed over and were rarely naked for long, usually wanting to show off a new silk robe or some such. This was different and all of the blood in her face was causing her brain to sputter in ideas as to how wake him.

Finally she decided that the direct approach would be best and she walked in, averting her gaze as much as she could. She poked him quickly, calling his name. He didn't stir. She continued poking and calling for him, but it soon became clear that it wouldn't work in waking him. She looked around the room and saw nothing useful, but she did spot a blanket, which she threw on his lower half.

This made him sink deeper into the bed, and she noticed for the first time that the bottle she thought he had been gripping was in fact a knife. She tried to pry it out of his hand for her safety as much as his, but she had no luck. She was close to him now, bent over him, and she decided to try another method. She whispered in his ear as she gently shook him, "Haymitch, wake up."

He was moving now and she knew she would be able to wake him up if she kept at it. She combed her fingers through his hair, hoping her gentle method would mean he wouldn't use his knife. She kept one hand on that arm just in case she would be forced to defend herself.

Haymitch surprised her. He rolled over and kissed her. What surprised her even more was that she didn't jump away and squeal like last year, she let herself be kissed for a moment.

Who would have guessed he wasn't actually half bad at kissing?

She broke it after a moment though and his eyes opened, blinking a few times before he fully woke up. Effie had forgotten why she had come here, her eyes darting for an exit. Haymitch sat up, still not fully awake. He looked at the blanket on him as though he doubted its existence. He tightened his grip on his knife.

Effie took the opportunity to sneak out, forgetting to remind him about his outfit and to be at the Reaping.

* * *

That was a strange dream, Haymitch thought. Most of his dreams were really nightmares where he was back in the arena. Effie climbing in bed with him and him kissing her was not standard fare. He shook his head, it was Reaping day and the Escort had naturally been on his mind since she sent his new outfits.

New, fashionable outfits he had no intention of wearing. He looked around for a bottle, but couldn't find anything but empties. He threw on some dirty pants and a shirt, and made his way his way to the mayor's house.

The mayor was clearly surprised that he had arrived on time. Haymitch understood why. He hated coming here, didn't want to risk the possibility of running into his wife, remembering her sister.

He found Effie instead. She was tittering more than usual and seemed determined not to meet his gaze. He wondered at this, his dream had been a realistic one, but it had been a dream. Right?

They stood in awkward silence in a few moments, but Effie couldn't stand it and began to talk about the architecture of the house they were in, pointing out some of the techniques the builders had used. Haymitch was sure that most of what she was saying wasn't true and began to rub his head.

Without the haze of alcohol, he had no patience for the escort's nonsense. He interrupted her, "Effie, shut up."

Shockingly, she listened and sweet silence engulfed the room until the mayor entered. His daughter was hiding behind his leg, as though Effie would be snatching her up for the Games here. Haymitch wondered how many years the girl had left before her name went in the bowl.

The mayor greeted them, "It's time."

Effie plastered a smile on until she actually saw what Haymitch was wearing. "That is not what I told you to wear."

"I'm not wearing the crap you sent."

She clearly had more to say about the topic, but Haymitch left before she could get any words out, taking his assigned seat. She sat next to him, looking upset, but saying nothing as the mayor began the Reaping.

The Reaping went as usual. It only took Effie a year to become of professional at this. Haymitch's fingers itched for a bottle.

The chosen kids this year were malnourished and little for their ages, which appeared to be about 14 for the girl and 15 for the boy. They took their hour to say goodbye to their parents. Haymitch didn't wait for them, instead he goes to the train, planting himself in the bar car.

It doesn't take long for Effie to find him. "You look terrible." She sniffed the air. "You smell terrible as well. Why couldn't you wear the clothes I sent?"

"I told you my rules."

"But they wouldn't be very fashionable…"

Haymitch grabbed a bottle and headed for his room, leaving an enraged Effie in his wake. She yelled after him, "I insist you wear that green outfit tomorrow, Haymitch."

Haymitch didn't respond.

* * *

The next morning Effie was trying to speak with the children, who were far more interested in the food. They favored the pancakes; she made a note to order more next year. Perhaps those tributes would like them as well.

Effie continued to look to the door, eager to see how Haymitch would look when he wore something resembling real clothes. She had purchased him a green waist coat with tan puffy pants, hardly the most fashionable items, but she figured they remained within the rules the Mentor had set for her.

When he did enter she nearly choked, before screeching, "What are you wearing?"

Haymitch gave her a grin. "Why nothing, princess. Is something wrong with your eyes?" He came up close as if to examine them.

She swatted him away while also trying to cover him up from the children's eyes. They seemed both shocked, but completely unsure what to do. Effie dismissed them. They couldn't leave fast enough.

Effie then turned to Haymitch, who was now siting and eating a muffin. "Haymitch, what are you doing?"

"I'm eating. What is it with you and the obvious questions?" He took a big bite from a muffin.

Part of Effie was grateful that he was eating rather than drinking like usual, and noted the kind of muffin he was eating. She would be sure they were stocked next year for him. "Why aren't you wearing the clothes I sent you?"

"Well, you see, princess," he crossed his legs and Effie averted her eyes, "I don't much care for puffy pants. I would really prefer no pants."

"It's completely inappropriate. Think of the children, think of the cameras, think of what people will say, Haymitch."

"Well, I'm an embarrassment in my rags and I'm inappropriate in nothing, according to you. I think this is all fine." He took another big bite. "So as I see it. This is your problem."

Effie wanted to slap him. Instead she stormed away and went to the communications car. She made a few phone calls so that Haymitch would have some clothes for the Games.

She would never buy him puffy pants again.

* * *

Haymitch dreamed of dead children. He dreamed of blood. He dreamed he was drowning in it.

And he had forgotten how to swim.

* * *

The girl had been the one to knock on Effie's door. "Miss Trinket?"

Effie looked at the time and threw on a robe and a wig; she didn't have time to apply makeup though. She was pleased that the girl showed some matters by using her proper name, but was less pleased at the hour she was being called on. She opened the door only slightly, hoping the dim light would cover her uncovered face, "Yes?"

The girl looked scared, after biting her lip, she said, "Mr. Haymitch…I can't sleep and neither can Cole."

That was when Effie heard him, yelling in his sleep. The noises didn't seem to be coming from his room either. Effie normally slept with a mask and earplugs, which is why she didn't hear him earlier. She put on a smile for the girl. "I understand. I will take care of it." She waved a hand. "Now back to bed for you, we have a big big big day tomorrow."

The girl seemed reluctant, but left. Effie closed her door and went to put on a proper face. She grumbled to herself about Haymitch's manners and what a drunk he was, not even able to get to his sleeping car. She had half a mind to wake him up and chew him out. Frightening the children, tributes, was no way for a mentor to act.

When she looked presentable, Effie went to the source of the screaming. When she saw Haymitch, her hard face immediately softened.

He was thrashing around, looking like a scared boy, fighting for his life. Careful of his bottle, which he was clutching and using like he would a knife, Effie kneeled next to him. She was grateful to find he wasn't naked this time. She had had quite enough of nude Haymitch in the past few days.

Effie Trinket wasn't the most maternal of people, she was too involved in herself for that, but she ran her fingers through Haymitch's hair and made some soothing noises until he calmed down into an uneasy, but quiet sleep. She was also grateful he didn't kiss her again, at least that's how she choose to interpret that feeling.

She tried to pry his bottle from his hands, but realized the effort would be futile after a few moments. She removed his shoes, put his entire body on the couch and threw a blanket over him.

It would become a habit of hers moving forward, taking care of Haymitch when he slept. She always told herself she did it for the children, tributes.

* * *

Haymitch wasn't too surprised to wake up on the couch. He was surprised to find that his shoes were off and he had a blanket draped over him. He rarely made such an effort.

He never knew who did this, but he always suspected her whenever he woke up.

The group had an uneventful breakfast, no one wanting to make conversation. Effie made a few half-hearted attempts, but faded out quickly enough.

After she sent the tributes off to prepare for their presentation at the Capitol, she turned to Haymitch.

He didn't like the look in her eyes.

She put a medicine bottle in front of him. "What's this?" He asked, already suspecting.

"Sleeping pills. Your screaming woke the tributes last night." An awkward silence settled between them.

"Do you want to talk about it? I find that sometimes helps when I have bad dreams."

"It's none of your damn business." He threw her pills back at her, grabbing a bottle on his way out.


End file.
